What we talked about

MY POEMS ARE

A mass of whims and fancies
A slave of the written word
A thought in search of a sound
A throbbing inside a cage of bones
A red river twisting through narrow channels
A sponge which absorbs all
and becomes lifeless when squeezed
A bag of bones, skin and water
A puzzle with some ill-fitting blocks.
Who are you?

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About me

Landfills

Landfills

Reminiscences stuffed into frayed pockets , she walked in no particular direction, going as far as house waste goes In search of a treasure trove of stinking landfills Tattered as her life of forty, are her gathered clothes Fading grey underskirt with trailing ,weeping ends ignorant of the boundaries that defined the sari-remains above.